


reclaim

by ndnickerson



Series: the white and the key [2]
Category: Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Genre: Car Sex, Clubbing, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, F/M, Jealousy, Married Couple, Missionary Position, Woman on Top, female dom/male sub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:13:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24488791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: Nancy takes Ned on a visit to the club—and is deeply displeased to see someone else flirting with him.
Relationships: Nancy Drew/Ned Nickerson
Series: the white and the key [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1768981
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	reclaim

**Author's Note:**

> As with the previous story, Nancy is dominant and Ned is submissive in this one.
> 
> I actually have an extensive back story written for them on this, though it isn't complete. I kind of want to finish it and post it, but I'm not sure if anyone would be interested. ;)

Nancy Drew, Second of her House, strode into the main conference room, her lips painted crimson, her black pantsuit immaculate. Her shoulders were back, and her gaze was calm. She wasn't the primary on this particular deal, she was just in attendance to offer details of technical support if needed, but her father, Prime of their House, valued her perspective and insight. Ned was in attendance, stationed in one of the support pods ringing the room, but she didn't acknowledge his presence. Their relationship wasn't for public view, public comment, or public scrutiny. As far as the other meeting attendees were concerned, Ned was a secretary of their House.

The black leather bracelet knotted around his wrist was just visible from beneath his suit jacket.

The conference room boasted a full wall of windows, though the landscape in middle afternoon was gray and pale. The conference table was thick wood polished to a mirror gleam, the chairs around it comfortable and immaculate. A drop of condensation traced its way down the curve of the water pitcher, a stack of inverted paper cups beside it. A large monitor behind her father's chair was perfectly placed to command the attention of the attendees.

Nancy arranged herself in the chair beside her father's and studied the members of the potential client's party. The leader sported a crest of vivid orange hair, sleek and cascading in glossy waves down the side that hadn't been shaved. A three-piece pinstriped suit completed the look. Two of the other members of the party were dressed identically, in uniform charcoal; they were busily exchanging notes and snickering. Nancy dismissed them quickly; they weren't the ones whose attention or opinion were important. In comparison to their leader, they looked demure and unobtrusive, meant to fade into the background.

Nancy sucked in a breath and let it out through her nose as a silent sigh. She had other things to do, and though she had a very competent team working on it, protocol dictated that she leave her phone with her assistant. She didn't want to appear bored or disinterested during their meeting, even though she was both.

A minute after their discussion officially began, she was able to feel Ned's gaze on her.

It was gentle as a fingertip drifting just above the fine hairs dusting her back, in the valley between her shoulder blades. But it sent a _very_ distracting signal to the hollow between her legs. She'd taken him that morning, riding him to an incredible climax, and afterward she had given him permission to give her another orgasm. He'd gazed at her, love and desire and satisfied need in his eyes, as he had more than fulfilled that command. Stubble burning against tender, oversensitized flesh, leaving her quivering in pleasure edged in delicious, overwhelming ecstasy, her fingers twining in his hair—

She snapped her attention back to the meeting, though she very much wanted to press the heel of her hand against the join of her thighs. If she turned around and just glanced at him, she was fully aware that he would be more than ready for her to take him again.

She quirked her lips slightly, a fierce light in her eyes. Men. So very delicate. Ned was often very brave, very strong, but he was still a man. A gorgeous, virile man.

"We could easily handle that scenario." Nancy's father glanced over at her, his eyebrows raised slightly.

Nancy handled the transition smoothly, discussing their public network capabilities, their staffing, a similar client need they had handled two months earlier. She glanced back at Ned once to confirm a response time, and he dovetailed smoothly, leaning forward and supplying a few corroborating details, then moving back and immediately allowing her to take command of the presentation again.

She felt a warm glow of pride when her father took over the meeting again. She had chosen so well when she had chosen Ned. Her father could marry off his other heirs, if they so chose. He was just...

She could have any man she wanted, and once upon a time, she _had_. And at the crook of a finger, before their relationship, Ned had been able to pick up anyone he wanted. But he had chosen her.

When the client suggested a meal, Nancy's father declined with his regrets, citing a previous engagement. Nancy took over smoothly, agreeing to take the client's group to an upscale restaurant in the center of the business district. She could, and had, sleepwalked through meetings like this many times. Bess, who had been listening in on the meeting, had the perfect ensemble prepared, and was happy Nancy didn't have time to argue with it. High neckline for professional interaction; keyhole opening to provide a hint that she wasn't entirely closed-off. The skirt ended at her knees, showing off her gorgeous legs. Minimal jewelry; diamond studs and her wedding band only, in fact.

Nancy couldn't have cared less about what she was wearing, and as Bess knew, would have preferred not changing clothes at all. In fact, she would have preferred most just going home with Ned. Bess didn't question it when Nancy stepped out of her underwear and into a black thong; if she decided that she couldn't wait until they were back in their bedroom, Nancy wanted as little as possible standing between her and sex.

Granted, that was almost always true. Now, anyway. Now that she had allowed Ned to unlock that part of her again. Her perpetual access to him was a double-edged sword; he was incredible at his work, both with her and _within_ her.

Nancy smirked as she reapplied her lipstick and allowed Bess to fuss over her for a few minutes, blackening her lashes, blotting and powdering. Her appearance wouldn't win or lose them this deal; their being the absolute best at what they did, would.

Ned inhaled when he saw her, and his gaze was intense, hungry. She had trained him so well that he said nothing else. They weren't alone. While everyone in her House knew their relationship, Nancy was and had always been scrupulously private, and anticipation was an incredible aphrodisiac.

The driver set out as Nancy checked her phone for more messages. Bess was off the hook for tonight, but she had sent Nancy a photo of some lingerie she had laid out for her in anticipation. Nancy swiped the message away with only a flicker of annoyance in her expression. When Nancy wore lingerie, it was rarely, and only for her own enjoyment. Ned was no part of that decision.

Then she glanced over at Ned again.

He had been gone. In her desperation, that veil had been entirely ripped away. She hadn't given a damn who witnessed her devotion to him, her singular goal of recovering him before the worst could happen. Were she someone else, she would have felt mortified, humiliated. But he was Ned. She would burn the world down for him, should she need to.

His grooming was immaculate. Maybe Nancy rarely took advantage of all the services Bess kept pressing on her, but Ned's hair was always neatly trimmed, his facial hair shaved to her specifications. His skin glowed with health; when he could, he visited the House gym, and his naked, muscular body was a testament to his commitment. He had changed too, and his outfit was a slightly relaxed version of a uniform, an ironed black button-down and dark-wash jeans. He was going to turn heads tonight, despite his wedding band, despite the black leather bracelet knotted at his wrist. They would look, but they couldn't touch, wouldn't dare. The power of her House guaranteed it.

Ned shifted in his seat, responding to her hungry gaze, and hooked a thumb in one of his belt loops, very close to his fly. "May I make myself available for you, mistress?"

The suggestion sent a pearl of warm, slippery arousal gliding down the hollow between her legs. He was ready, and so was her body.

She pursed her lips, then gave her head a slight shake. "After, definitely," she said, raising the hem of her dress to reveal her abbreviated underwear to him. She could see his reaction in the tightening of his jaw, the flexing of his thighs. She let her dress drape over her upper thighs again.

The restaurant was a perfect venue, and the table they were given was ideal: partially in a side alcove, allowing them some privacy while letting them watch the other patrons. Nancy ordered wine for the table but stuck to water with a lemon twist herself. Her self-control was legendary, and she didn't have any intention of breaking her streak now. Not for this.

Her steak was excellent. She ate heartily and noted with approval that Ned was doing the same. The dinner conversation occasionally approached their proposed business relationship, but always ended up skirting away. She could see their expressions, their anticipation. Their minds were on the rest of the night, taking advantage of their time in the city before their departure.

When the redhead proposed a visit to the club, Nancy was more than ready to make her excuses, call it a night, and fuck her pet in the backseat of the SUV on the way back home. And then in their suite a few times before they slept.

But the redhead wasn't talking about a visit to a white club, and Nancy knew how much Ned loved dancing. Dancing with him... Nancy's vivid lips curled up. Not quite foreplay. But if they were different, it would have been.

The club was dim, smoky, and loud. Most of the patrons were in their twenties, smooth-faced, bright, drunk. They shouted to each other, jerked and gyrated on the dance floor. Some were wrapped around each other, vanishing into the shadows at the edges of the club. The bar was doing a brisk business, the crowd around it three-patrons deep, hands waving to catch the attention of the bartenders.

Nancy shook her head. This had never been on her radar. In white clubs, her place in the pecking order was— _had been_ —clear. She had worn her key and strode among the supplicants, seeking possibilities.

Here, now, she was married and couldn't be less interested.

Ned didn't offer his hand or give any indication he was eager to go out on the floor with her. It was Nancy's place to do that, and Ned was incredibly well-trained. Once the rest of their party was settled, once the assistants had disappeared into the crowd clustered thick around the glaringly-lit bar and the principals had relaxed some, Nancy glanced over at Ned.

Then she stood and offered him her hand.

He accepted it wordlessly, his gaze locked to her as she led him out onto the floor. It was the end of a song, and at the beginning of the next, she slid her arms possessively over his shoulders and pressed her body tightly against his. Her heels, thanks to Bess, made them closer in height. He was already aroused for her, and she blinked at him lazily, a very small smile on her lips.

"You enjoy this?"

"Every part of it."

"The audience?"

He shook his head, his gaze still locked to hers. Her own arousal was a simmering sweet warmth. "You, me, music, space. Time together. Holding you close." At her slight nod, he let his lips barely graze her earlobe. "Yes, having you in my arms—that's incredible."

She traced her fingertips against the nape of his neck, then trailed her fingernails very gently over the skin there. Ned's lashes lowered, and his eyes glittered beneath. His attention was centered on her. He held her with confidence and ease, his lips brushing her skin, his hips swaying. She couldn't help imagining what would come later. When she let him lead, indulging him with a small smile, the movement of his body against hers became unmistakably erotic. He was watching her closely, eager to make certain she was pleased by his behavior, willing to do this.

His gaze flicked between her eyes and her lips, and Nancy tipped her chin up. His mouth touched hers and she threaded her fingers in his hair, deepening the kiss. A subtle sense told her someone nearby was recording them, and she let the kiss linger a while longer before breaking it, her thumb brushing in an arc over his cheek.

She raised her hand in a subtle gesture, keeping her gaze locked to Ned's.

Ever since Rugen's abduction, Ned had been covered by a comprehensive security detail. Nancy was a high-value target, and she'd known that, but Ned was technically a member of her entourage; he wasn't supposed to have his own security. Thanks to his proximity to her, most of the time he was just umbrella-ed with her own.

At all times, with her knowledge and acceptance, her security team was around her, and had been since her birth. She never took them for granted, but she did often depend on them and their constant vigilance.

Within a minute, the person who had recorded them had been ushered from the club's dance floor. The phone would be professionally scrubbed and verified.

Any images of either of them out there had been vetted. The last thing she needed was some vengeful target going after her Ned again.

It didn't exactly please her to leave Ned ready and waiting for her, not unless she would be able to take advantage of it very quickly, but she headed back to the table to make the closing remarks, the calm reassurances the client would need to accept their offer. Ned, checking his phone, motioned that he had to handle a request on their current case. She acknowledged it with a nod, and saw Ned's hand close and open once before he headed to the SUV waiting for them in the parking lot.

She smiled. His control was perfect, but she did so love seeing the subtle signs of his need.

The client was loose and friendly, and judging by the newly-emptied martini glass, more than a little drunk. Nancy was cool and competent, and when the client suggested another possible avenue for their partnership, Nancy talked through some of the preliminaries with ease. This was one of her least favorite parts of the job, but her father had often said she was a natural at it.

After she told the client she would send a detailed message with all elements of what they had just discussed, she was turning to give the order for another martini to her assistant when she saw it.

Ned, at the outskirts of the dance floor, trying to sidle around a very handsy brunette.

A gorgeous woman with glossy brown hair who wore the key.

Nancy's eyes narrowed.

She was well aware that her caché was the status and power of her family. Bess did all she could to maximize Nancy's assets when she carefully selected outfits, when she managed to make Nancy stop squirming long enough to contour and highlight and bronze. Nancy wasn't ugly, but she wasn't beautiful or gorgeous. She was assertive and confident and incredibly competent, but she wasn't beautiful.

And Ned was _gorgeous_.

Together, _visually_ , Ned and Nancy didn't make sense. But this gorgeous woman looked like the other half of a pair matched to him.

Nancy wanted to murder her.

Ned wore both a wedding band _and_ the black. The bitch knew that, and she was _still_ pushing. To his credit, Ned was being polite, but firm in his attempts to disentangle himself.

Nancy took the moment to observe him. She didn't often see him without her, without his deference and subservient persona in place. She didn't fool herself that it was anything other than a persona, but it was a well-established one.

Ned's expression wasn't angry or rude, but it was entirely closed down, blank. He wasn't gazing at the other woman with need or desire in his eyes; she'd seen him look at blank walls with more interest. He was tight-lipped, his responses apparently monosyllabic if anything. Every time the brunette caught the cuff of his jacket or angled her body toward his, he moved away from her.

Nancy was proud of him, but her jealousy was just as intense. She was completely assured of his fidelity and his love, but Ned was _hers._ The woman should have paid for the privilege of even being in the same _building_ with him for the past few minutes. She should have seen his bracelet and his wedding band and left him alone.

Ned was an adult, and he didn't need her to fight his battles. She would never have selected him for her partner if he had. The brunette was too proud to follow once Ned finally strode away without looking back; the encounter might have been half a minute, but the brunette turned to cut her eyes after him, to see where he went.

He went straight to Nancy.

Nancy was vain enough to wish herself more beautiful, but then Ned walked to her, and it didn't matter. She didn't spare another glance at the brunette; she watched his expression subtly change as he focused on her. Adoration and quiet joy at just being in her presence.

"Mine," she murmured, once he was close enough to hear her.

Immediately Ned dropped to his knees, no question, no argument, no hesitation. He bowed his head, pressing his cheek against her leg, his arms by his sides.

Nancy closed her eyes, warm, sweet pleasure lapping over her. The brunette had seen the bracelet circling Ned's wrist, and she'd understood what Nancy had seen in Ned. Ned had never worn the white, and Nancy had never worn the key to attract him; he had been drawn to her despite who she was, and he was _her_ pet alone. The only bracelet he had ever worn was the black.

To see such a powerful, assertive, gorgeous man give himself over to this kind of relationship... well, it wasn't unheard of, but it definitely made him a rarity. Another kind of master or mistress might relish the idea of breaking him, claiming him for the first time.

Nancy had never broken Ned. His training had been entirely voluntary, undertaken solely because he wanted to please her and had understood it was the only way, even when they'd had no prospect of a future together.

She threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him in place as she reached for her phone.

"The woman," she began, once the call connected.

"Yes." Her operative knew exactly what Nancy was referring to.

"Identity."

"Belinda Morrison. Seventh in her House."

"Which one?"

The answer was unsurprising. Nancy actually chuckled darkly, gently massaging Ned's scalp. Prime of her house was Brenda Carlton's father; Brenda and Belinda bore a family resemblance, and nearly identical pouts when they were displeased. Nancy had often seen Brenda displeased.

"They owe me." Nancy smiled. "Please remind them of that."

"Done."

Nancy put her phone away, and after a gentle tug, Ned was rising to his feet again. Nancy neither knew nor cared whether anyone outside their triangle had witnessed his display of devotion to her; it hadn't been meant for anyone else. Anyone so brazen as to attempt a recording would never do so again.

"Mistress."

Nancy glanced back at their table, just in time to see the client glance away from the two of them. Nancy's expression was back in its smooth mask, and she cupped Ned's cheek, searching his eyes. In their shared glance she let him see how greedy she was for him, how jealous, how proud. The faintest tightening in his expression relaxed, and when she stroked his skin, he came very close to nuzzling against her palm.

"Wait for me in the car."

The client was regarding her over the rim of the latest martini, this one still slick with condensation while a small transparent pool of liquor swirled in the base. "Well-played."

Nancy didn't bother responding, though she did enjoy the new appreciation in the redhead's gaze. "I'll look forward to hearing from you," she replied. "If you need any further information, please let me know."

"In the morning." The redhead's lips quirked up slightly at one corner.

"Good night."

The redhead nodded.

The SUV was idling at the entrance when Nancy walked out of the club. Her security staff was streaming out, into their own vehicles, ready to head back to the House compound with her.

Ned was in the back of her car, waiting for her. She could sense the tension in him, even if he wasn't expressing it in any visible way. He'd never seen her this way before. While it would be nice for him to feel an ego boost over it, Nancy didn't care. Very little of what she did was meant to impress or cater to other people.

She held his gaze as she stripped her thong off, then pushed the hem of her dress up and parted her legs wide. She slid her ass to the edge of the seat.

Ned immediately dropped to his knees.

He was the best lover she'd ever had, and he was so well-trained that she didn't have to lift a finger or provide any direction at all. His hands slid up her torso beneath her dress, pushing her bra up, and he caressed her breasts and roughly fondled her nipples as he suckled her swollen, sensitive clit. Nancy arched, tipping her head back, eyes sewn shut in pleasure.

"Mine," she growled, and Ned affirmed it with a gasp as his stubble rasped against her clit. Her inner muscles clenched in response.

By the time the SUV reached the House compound, Ned was back in his seat and she was dressed again, both of them very aware that Ned was incredibly aroused and ready for her. George was at her usual post, and Nancy greeted her with a nod. The lingerie Bess had left for her was still spread on the bed.

The door closed behind them. One vicious tug sent the thong sliding to her ankles, the crotch soaked with her arousal. Her shoes, dress, and bra followed seconds later, and she could hear Ned hastily undressing behind her as she swept the lingerie onto the plush rug. She had no use for it.

Nancy perched at the foot of the bed, propping herself up on her hands. The air conditioning teased her already-puckered nipples, and as Ned landed on his knees before her, she considered.

He deserved a reward for his devotion.

Nancy smirked. Ned's head was bowed; he wasn't looking at her. Whatever she wanted tonight, it was his responsibility to provide it. He had always known that. And his devotion was completely assumed. He had only done what was expected of him. He had performed brilliantly, but treating this like some test he had passed with flying colors was ridiculous.

She just wanted Belinda punished, really. How _dare_ she try to put her hands on Ned. How dare _anyone_ touch him.

"Edmund," she murmured.

Ned brought his head up. Meeting his dark-eyed, intense gaze sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine. The power coiled in him was intoxicating. The way it quivered in him, simmering, in the tension of his muscles, in every line of him. His hunger for her was just as insatiable as her own for him.

If he had never come into her life, tonight would have been very different. She would have watched her husband interact with a beautiful, vivacious woman on the dance floor and smiled in pleasure, hoping that he took advantage of the situation. She would be alone in her own bed now, grateful for the privacy.

"Come inside me."

He brought himself to his full height and regarded her with such hunger and need that she shivered, moving back on the bed with her legs parted wide. He moved one knee, then his other, onto the bed, and she brought her own knees up.

For so long, she had seen her need for him as a liability; now, she knew it was. Life would have been so much simpler without him.

But then he was perched over her, and she reached up to gently grip his rigid, throbbing cock and give it a caress before she angled it down toward her.

That muscle in his jaw ticked, the only outward indication that his self-control was being so severely tested.

She swallowed when the tip of his cock came into contact with her slick flesh. Their gazes met.

As soon as he plunged inside her, she gasped in relief, then wrapped her legs around him and propped herself up to provide some leverage. The speed and rhythm of their joining was hers to control, and she couldn't help doing so; usually only after her third orgasm of the night did she allow him to worship and fuck her without complete direction.

She considered jolting her hips, rolling him onto his back, taking total control, but he knew exactly what to do, and just the subtle shifts in her grip on him were enough. Their mouths met, in slow, tender kisses, and he moved so deep in her, over and over, expertly stroking and stimulating her clit.

With a gasp she tipped her hips, sucking in a sharp breath against their kiss when his angle changed. Her grip on him warned him to continue, and he did, changing his rhythm slightly, pausing at the apex of each thrust to let her feel it.

"Holy," she breathed, and released a panted, almost soundless cry. She had never been so powerful or so powerless with any other pet. She had never let her guard down the way she did with him. She had been so open to him, once he had earned her trust, and oh, he was so responsive, so tuned to her.

"Mistress," he breathed.

She gasped, holding her self-control as tightly as she could, her lashes fluttering as her pleasure rose and rose, impossibly, brilliantly.

"My only."

"Mine," she cried, her face creasing at the indescribable joy, the pain of not letting herself break. And when it came she screamed, broken, gasping, tipping her head back to bare her throat. Her hips jerked, her clit was so sensitive, and just as he'd been trained, Ned kept going.

Her cry was savage, feral, and she jerked her hips to reverse their positions. She moaned, grunted, sobbed as she fucked him to another orgasm, and he kept his control, holding back. He would always hold back for her. Always.

She slowed the frenzied rock of her hips, her arms twined around him, her mouth wet against his neck. She whimpered at the gentle stroke of his thumb against her clit one last time, her brows drawn together, eyes sewn shut.

"Come," she whispered.

His hips jolted twice, and when he grunted she knew his seed was spilling into her womb. She groaned, long, low, deep, feeling the answering pulse of her inner muscles.

"Fuck," she whispered as he groaned, her body going limp. He wrapped her in a tight embrace, and then they slowly slumped to the bed together, still holding each other.

His lips brushed her cheek, where she could feel tears drying cool on her skin, tears she didn't remember crying. She heard him draw in a breath, nearly speaking, but he remained silent.

"What is it, love," she whispered.

"There is no one other than you," he whispered. "You must know that."

"I do."

He kissed her. She could still taste herself on his tongue.

"There is no one other than you," she whispered. "No one."

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally published elsewhere. If you enjoyed it/want to see more, please consider leaving feedback!


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